


All in Good Time

by sissannis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, I mean, flames, fucked up next gen kid, fucking cool, their ship name is flames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 12:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12681603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sissannis/pseuds/sissannis
Summary: He had waited. He could wait. He would wait.





	All in Good Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cecelia2046](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecelia2046/gifts).



> This is for @cece2046 ! We both are playing with the new gen kids. You can read her writing for me of Hermione Granger x Scorpius Malfoy.
> 
> ps: we didn’t plan this at all but we both ended up fucked the kids up. 
> 
> No beta so bear with me!

* * *

 He looked at the quaint house as he took another drag of his cigarette. The house was beautiful,  _cute_  ー as his mum said it ー located right in front of the private beach, and he saw how the sea breeze blew the strings of shells that were hanging in the front porch. **  
**

The intro guitar riff of Franz Ferdinand’s Take Me Out startled him in the quiet night. He grudgingly answered his phone.

“Yeah?”

_“James, you shithead. Where the fuck are you? Victoire and I already here for almost half an hour!”_

“Yeah?” He puffed the smoke out and scratch his eyebrow with his thumb, “I mean, Yeah. Sorry, Teddy. I still haveー” he saw one of the upstairs room’s light flickered on “ーa lot of work to do.”

_“Not cool, mate. Victoire is very excited to finally get out of the Weasley’s house. Her other siblings still there, too. You know how she’s been these past few days. Everyoneー”_

James swallowed thickly as he saw silhouette of a woman behind the curtain. He could make out what she was doing: taking off her sundress that she loved to wear when she was home alone, followed by taking off her white lacy brassiere that he knew she would wear every time she put on the sundress.

She leaned down a bit then swayed ー in that sensual move that had haunted his dream since as long as he could remember ー to let her knickers slide down her slender legs.

She walked away from the window, and he moved his phone away from his ear to check on the time, 9:20 p.m., she was getting ready for bed.

_“ーa lot of things happening. I need you, Jamesy. I could use some support here.”_

James had no idea what Teddy had been talking about.

“Of course, Ted. You got me, I got you. Listen, I really have to finish this assignment by tonight or McG would kill me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

It was quiet on the other side until James heard Teddy’s defeated sigh.

_“Alright. Wait! Do you think I should send her home? Or back to the Weasley?”_

James saw her silhouette again, her hands ruffling her hair ー her silky blonde hair that he had smell whenever he had the chance to ー meaning she was done washing up.

“Nah. Why don’t you bring her back to our flat? Surely you missed her, don’t you?”

He took a long last drag before flicking the remnant cigarette off and smirked winningly when Teddy laughed and happily took his suggestion.

He turned off his phone to avoid any more unwanted call and adjusted the collar of his jacket, snuggling his face from the cold night breeze.

The light was still on when he reached the house. But, instead of knocking on the front door, he snuck to the back of the house to one of the window that he knew couldn’t be locked. He had made sure of it.

Once inside, he didn’t waste any time and could barely contain his excitement as he climbed up the creaking stairs. 

He stood in front of her bedroom door. He leaned closer, ear planted on the wooden door, and he heard her humming the classical French Suite No. 1 in D Minor. He had a playlist of all the songs that she had sang and he’d memorized them all. James turned the knob slowly, knowing full well she wouldn’t care to lock her bedroom door when she was home alone.

She stopped humming.

“James?” Her soft voice called him.

And it was so hypnotizing. None of her classical songs could compare to the melodic of her voice.

He strode to her hastily before she even had the chance to turn, and hugged her naked body from behind.

“James?” She called tentatively.

He couldn’t answer her. He was already high from their closeness. He could smell her properly this time. The smell of narcissus and mimosa mixed together, just as he knew how she would smell like. His hand trailed her revealed arms and he moaned when his callous skin made contact with her perfect silky ivory skin. He buried his nose deep in the junction of her neck and her shoulder, and licked her pulsing vein, and it fascinated him how he managed to send shiver across her feminine body.

“James, let me go,” she stammered and it came out like a whisper.

He raised his eyes, chin rested on her shoulder, facing the mirror. Their eyes met in their reflection.

“Fleur,” he purred, “You look beautiful.” He nestled his nose in her golden hair and tightened his hold when she tried to push him away.

“So beautiful,” he dragged his hand along her slender neck down to the valley of her breasts, “So lovely,” he continued moving down, feeling her curve and settled between her thighs, “So ravishing.”

Fleur whimpered when he slowly move his thumb in a circular motion. She still tried to escape but his ministration made her weak in the knees and her head involuntarily lolled back on his shoulder.

She moaned.

James pulled her up straighter in front of the mirror, her back met his chest as he cupped her cheeks with one hand ー forcing her to look at their reflection ー while the other still rubbing her heat. “Ravishing.”

“James… Please,” she begged.

And James wasn’t sure if she begged for him to let her go or she begged for him to keep going.

Not like it mattered to him.

He had wanted her for so long, to touch her, to smell her, to love her. And he finally had her wrapped in his arms.

He was fifteen when he first felt it. He came to visit his cousin, Victoire, per usual, when he accidentally saw her and Bill fucking from the small opening of their bedroom door. She was on top, and he saw how her arse reddened from every Bill’s hard spanking. She liked it.

And since then, she had been haunting his dreams and even in his every wake. He had masturbated to her, imagining she was on him, picturing her breasts bouncing, and hearing his name moaned in her sultry voice. But it was  _never_  enough.

So he came with a plan. It would take long, years long, but he didn’t care. He could wait if it meant to have her in his grasp, even for a second. He could wait.

And he had waited for five years.

He was twenty years old when he finally started with his plan. His body was finally strong and buffed enough to fight Bill. He had called him one night, told him his place was broken into and he had hash with him so he’d pleaded Bill not to tell anyone, including his wife.  _Especially_  his wife. Bill, being the cool uncle he was, laughed it off and agreed with all his terms.

Bill was tall and a perfectly built policeman. It was a struggle to fought him off. But he managed. He made it looked like an accident. Bill ran after the burglar, took a wrong step near the window, and fell off from the eighth floor ー his flat. Then found dead with bits of his brain splattered all over the ground from the impact.

James had bruises on him, too. He let Bill threw punches and jabs on him. Bill was strong. He broke his ribs and dislocated his jaw. He didn’t mind. He welcomed it. It made his story more believable. And it worked.

It fucking worked. Like magic.

He was a magician. He orchestrated the whole act, from his wounds to Bill’s accidental fall.

He was a magician.

And a magician needed their beautiful helper.

He pushed her forward, bending her on her dresser until her face was inches away from the mirror.

He looked at their reflection and it took his every strength to stop himself from coming. He would not come that fast. He wanted to enjoy this, to enjoy her. For finally, he got her.

He didn’t bother to take off his clothes. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his black jeans and let it pooled around his ankles, and pressed his hardened cock between her buttocks. He teased her. He wanted her to want him. He wanted to savour her begging voice. So he bent down, biting her ear softly as he whispered.

“Do you want it?”

Fleur feebly pushed him away with her shaking hand. Her whole body was trembling, and he knew it was because of his non-stop fingering. She was wet. A glistening mess of sweat, a fucking Aphrodite.

“James… please,” it was the same request.

He kept fingering her whilst rubbing his cock on her rear.

“Please what, beautiful?” He licked the bead of sweat that streamed down her neck.

“Fuck me,” she whimpered over her sobs.

He was delighted. She wanted him. He didn’t force her. She wanted him.

Fleur wanted him.

So he shoved in and fucked her like how he’d been dreaming he would. She was nothing like his dreams. She was more. Much much more.

She was perfection.

She came before him with a scream of his name and that did it for him. He came in her and sucked on her neck hungrily.

“Sorry for your loss,” he muttered, cock still hard inside her.

She chuckled. “Not a good thing to say after sex, James.”

He hummed. “I want you, Fleur.”

Fleur slowly pushed him away and he obliged. She stood, with her back still on his chest, and looked at him through the mirror.

“He just left a week ago,” she said sadly.

 _Died. Dead._  He wanted to correct her but he kept it to himself. He studied how her chest rose up and deflated as she coming down from their love making session.

“Can you wait?” She quired as she turned her body, facing him, and pushing down his black jacket before worming her hands under his shirt, touching and feeling him.

He caught her blue eyes and it was the most enticing blue he had ever seen. It was vast like the perfectly blue sky of a beautiful afternoon, and he would fight the bright sun just so he could look at her.

“Yes,” he answered before he finally tasted her lips.

He had waited. He could wait. He would wait.

After all, good things come to those who wait.

* * *

 


End file.
